


small comforts

by OnyxSphinx



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Emotions, Haircuts, Trans Hermann Gottlieb, Trans Newton Geiszler, except like. make it Emotional., so yeah that's what you can expect, this was titled as haircut and movie equals perfect date in my drafts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Hermann gives Newt a haircut
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Kudos: 36





	small comforts

It’s one of the first things Hermann notices about him when they finally let him into Newton’s quarters—well. _Quarters_ , hah—they’re barely much more than the cell they were keeping him in, before; just now, he’s not strapped down to a chair, and there’s a bed—; Newton’s hair is long, past his chin, and greasy.

He’d noticed it before, of course—the length; that was hard to miss, especially when he’d never seen Newton with anything longer than a bob—and even that, he can barely recall, only having seen it in grainy photos of a young Newton Geiszler.

Then, though, in the bright light of the Shao elevator, it had been brushed and pleated and pinned back; clearly a labour of love—or so he had thought at the time, though even then it had been odd; the thought that Newton would allow his hair to grow out to such lengths when Hermann knew, or, rather, _had known_ , that it was something, like the scars on his chest, that he was sensitive about.

Now, though, as he thinks back on it, it becomes clear; the Precursors were invested in taking any and every happiness Newton had gained away from him that they possibly could—they had taken his job, his life, his relationships; they took, in whatever way they could, some of his identity, some of his _peace_ away from him. 

His hair hangs limply; streaks of grey at the roots in some areas.

Hermann crosses to his side. “Newton,” he murmurs, and doesn’t know how to continue.

He should know—this is one thing they’ve always had in common; Hermann may never have been able to take it as far as Newton, due to a fear of his father pulling funding from the Jaeger program for years, and then, later, due to—well, a lot of things conspiring; but he _doesn’t_ ; doesn’t know what to say, and so, in the end, he just winds up saying, again, “ _Newton_ ,” and then biting his lip.

Newton offers a half-smile; eyes a bit this side of hollow. “Herms,” he says, “long time no see, huh? Sorry about, uh, all of this.” He gestures widely to himself; the smile turning sardonic. “I look like a mess.”

 _I feel like a mess_ goes unsaid; Hermann can see Newton’s discomfort as he shifts, foot to foot, and—oh; of course. They wouldn’t’ve allowed him usage of a razor or a pair of scissors, hence the light stubble on his jaw, and the hair remaining at this length.

Hermann clears his throat; raises a hand, and then stops when Newton flinches at the motion; lets his hand drop. Says, instead, “The Marshal finally approved my request for you to leave your quarters. Ah, chaperoned, I’m afraid, but…” he trails off.

“‘S fine,” Newton shrugs. “I…it’ll be nice to get out of here. Where to?”

“I—” Hermann swallows thickly; begins, and then changes his answer halfway through. “I’ve still got some of the CDs of the Jurassic Park films and a disk-player on my laptop, if you’d like to watch something.”

At that, Newton’s gaze regains a spark. “Really?” he asks; tentative, eying Hermann like he’s going to tell him it’s all some elaborate joke.

Hermann’s chest tightens; he nods. “Yes,” and the word sounds awkward, _God_ , he _feels_ awkward. “Ah, just, ah, follow me, and I’ll…”

He lets the silence hang; turns; thumb rubbing along his cane in an attempt to soothe his mind; opens the door, holding it for Newton to pass into the hallway.

The walk back to his own quarters is quiet; Hermann keeps a careful distance between them, but still, he urges to reach out; to take Newton’s hand, to brush his thumb over Newton’s own; these small intimacies he had taken for granted ten years ago, and never will again, if he ever gets the chance to.

Newton enters Hermann’s quarters with a skittish glance around; his steps light, shoulders drawn back sharp and taut, and Hermann aches, for a moment, to press his fingers there; to banish the tension with the press of his fingers, but he doesn’t; just enters as well and pulls out his laptop and the disk and starts the movie.

They get halfway into it before Newton’s practically vibrating with nervous energy—the source of which Hermann is fairly certain is his hair, which is confirmed when, after a strand of it gets into his face, Newton brushes it aside with more force than necessary, eyes glazing with tears, and he blinks rapidly to try and hide them.

Hermann pauses the film; turns to face the other more fully. “Newton,” he says, gently, “I can tell your hair is bothering you. Would you like me to cut it?”

Newton swallows; throat bobbing with the action. There’s a silence; and, for the barest moment, Hermann wonders if he’s overstepped a boundary—perhaps Newton _isn’t_ bothered by the length of his hair?—and then Newton nods; croaks, “Y—yeah. Please.”

Hermann closes the laptop; sets it down; rises and offers Newton a hand.

The other takes it tentatively, and Hermann leads him to the bathroom; takes the shower chair out and instructs him to stand in the bathtub, and then turns to find the shears he uses to trim his own hair.

“You might want to take off your shirt, at least, for this,” Hermann says, “ah, if you’re comfortable, that is. I’m assuming you want it to the length you used to have, and that’s quite a bit of hair to cut off.”

Newton nods. “Yeah,” he says, again, and then looks down; blushing slightly. “I shouldn’t be so awkward, sorry—you’ve seen me nude before, it’s not, like, a big deal…” He clears his throat; pulls off the shirt, baring the slightly faded but still vivid ink on his skin. “Um. Do you want me to, like, sit down…?”

“That would be helpful,” Hermann nods; and once Newton does, perches himself on the shower chair; cocks his head a few times before he begins to cut.

By the time he’s done, Newton’s sitting in a veritable pile of his own hair—Hermann had forgotten the sheer _volume_ of his hair—it’s not terribly coarse, but it’s _thick_ , and, at this length, that’s a lot of hair.

He’s got a small, pleased smile on his face though; and when Hermann finally pulls back, sets the shears down, and anounces, “Done,” he raises a hand to drag through his hair. His smile widens.

“Thanks, Herms,” he says, softly; and then—“um, you don’t mind if i take a shower, do you? I _really_ want to get this hair off of me.”

“Of course,” Hermann returns, “there’s a net in the drain to catch all of the hair—just remember to empty it when you’re done. And I’ll, ah, I’ll get you another change of clothes, if you’d like—I think I still have one or two of your old shirts somewhere, and a pair of jeans that should fit you…”

Newton, though, isn’t listening anymore; has already begun to hum over shampoo bottles happily, so Hermann leaves him be and goes to fetch the clothes.

He finds the shirt he’s looking for around the time that the shower turns off, and when he enters the bathroom, he’s greeted by Newton, wrapped in a towel. “Your clothing,” he says, holding the items out to Newton.

Newton takes them; and then, eyes widening, says, “I _knew_ you stole that shirt from me!”

“I did _not_ ,” Hermann protests; but Newton’s grinning as he pulls it on, and then Hermann’s grinning as well.

Finally, Newton stands before him, fully dressed; looking more himself than he has in years; and he says, softly, “Thank you, Hermann. For…for all of this.”

Hermann nods. “Of course,” he says. “Would you like to watch the rest of the movie?”

Newton grins. “Hell yeah,” he says, and flicks the light and fan off after him, following Hermann back to the couch, and curls against him.

Hermann turns the film back on and begins to card his fingers, slowly, through Newton’s hair, relishing the contact and the weight of the biologist against him. For this moment, everything is wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
